


to find yourself a better life

by Different_approach



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Staci/Jacob content is only background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Different_approach/pseuds/Different_approach
Summary: Souvenirs from better times, only it’s from Caleb’s perspective.Also not like, 200,000 words long. Though who knows if I’ll be motivated to finish it.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Deputy | Judge/Staci Pratt, Male Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed
Comments: 24
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

It’s halfway through Freshman year, the harsh winter winds whistling through the valley, keeping them all inside. Another week and Pratt will make the icy trek back to Hope County alone for Christmas. Caleb is supposed to fly to Minot to see his parents. That is, if the weather is clear enough for the plane to get off the ground.

But for now, they lay sprawled out across their dorm room beds, the two twins pushed together to free up more floor space. Pratt’s sheets are white but Caleb’s are sort of a pale green color. “Sage” is what Caleb called it. Pratt made fun of him for that.

They’d both agreed at the start of the year that it only made sense, since they shared a bed for months after Caleb’s parents moved out of Hope and he stayed with Pratt to finish high school, there wasn’t anything weird about the suggestion they shove their narrow beds together and make one big one with more real estate.

Caleb’s happy, really fucking happy, to wake up half of his mornings with Pratt in his arms, the other half to the lingering warmth of Pratt just barely leaving on his morning run before Caleb wakes.

Snow belts against the windows, shaking the glass in their panes. 

They’ve talked about renting an apartment near campus next year. One with separate bedrooms. It’ll be fine. It’s only normal that Pratt would want his privacy. But that doesn’t mean Caleb can’t enjoy this moment while it lasts.

“Hey, Caleb,” Pratt rolls over, setting aside the book he had been reading. The lights aren’t really bright enough in their room. Pratt is probably straining his eyes, but Caleb isn’t about to mother him about it.

There’s enough space in the bed that they’re not touching, plenty of room for Pratt with his more compact frame to spread out a little bit. Caleb keeps his long limbs to himself, at least when he’s awake.

“Yeah?”

“I Uh…” Pratt looks beautiful as ever in the lamplight, the warmth of his skin and eyes, the way his hair curls around his ears, the tiny bit of second-day scruff clinging to his chin and cheeks. He only shaves once every three days. Caleb has started letting his beard grow in, though it’s still kind of patchy along his jaw. “There’s something I need to tell you…” 

Caleb hates that Pratt looks away, because there’s nothing he could possibly do or say that would change the fact that Caleb looks at him like he’s hung the moon. Fuck, Caleb can’t recall where he first heard that turn of phrase, but something about it was so neat and perfect.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Pratt breathes in deeply, “Caleb...I think I’m bisexual.”

Caleb’s heart hammers in his chest. Not a fluttering staccato rhythm, but a single, heavy thud, then a second, before he forgets to breathe. His head spins, his body feeling tight all over. Oh god, oh god, oh god, yes. _Yes!_ it’s finally happening. He can feel his blood shaking in his veins.

Pratt laughs, “Oh, it feels so good to say it…I thought, I don’t know. I’d practice saying it in the bathroom mirror first. Get used to it. But I lost my nerve. But now I’ve said it to you,” Pratt covers his face in both his hands, the perfect curl of his hair coming out from behind his ears. Caleb has thought about his ears a lot. “It feels so real now.”

“That’s fantastic,” Caleb blurts out. “That’s, so fucking awesome, Pratt.” He’s vibrating all over. Barely able to keep himself from shaking so hard he splinters. There’s nothing more he wants to do than finally, _finally, _pull Pratt, his Pratt, in close enough that their lips meet. That their bodies touch. Not like the way they’ve had their hands all over each other since they were kids. No, but what it feels like at the start of their bright and brilliant romance.__

__Not yet, though. Not yet, not yet. Caleb waits. He waits for the next confession. The one he’s maybe dreamed about since they were fifteen and he looked up at Pratt, staring down at him through the smashed skylight over the abandoned cabin in the woods. The one where Caleb crawled through the broken glass to try and find a way to open the door from the other side for Pratt. And when he looked back up at his friend, peering down at him from the roof, the sun got caught up in Pratt’s hair and god, Caleb realized...he realized he was in love. He only had to wait for Pratt to get there too._ _

__And now, they’ve arrived._ _

__But no declaration of love follows. Pratt’s lips draw tense and he thanks Caleb again for being so understanding. For not making a big deal out of this. And the words are just at the tip of Caleb’s tongue. _I think I’m bisexual too_ , and the only reason Caleb thinks, rather than knows, is because while he’s liked plenty of women just fine, they’ve never managed to replace the hollow, aching depth of his want for Pratt. So he’s not sure if it’s that he’s gay or he’s just got it so bad for his best friend no one else compares._ _

__Caleb doesn’t want to make this about himself, though. He knows he’s done that too many times before. Jumped in with his too-big mouth and prevented Pratt from saying something, or other people recognizing how smart and funny and fucking perfect Pratt really is. Caleb is always getting in the way and he wonders if telling Pratt, yeah, me too, so that he feels comfortable enough, so _they_ feel comfortable enough to take the next step, would be repeating Caleb’s horrible faults all over again._ _

__By the time Caleb has thought things over, Pratt is already asleep beside him._ _

__—_ _

__Pratt skips out on the spring break trip to California. Brett had planned the whole thing back in January. One last grand hurrah before they all, inevitably, go their separate ways after college. Caleb doesn’t want to think like that. Doesn’t want to think about Pratt drifting away from him._ _

__It’s been three years. Three years of watching Pratt slip away at parties with men who aren’t Caleb. Whispered suggestions fueled by fingers wrapped tightly around red solo cups. Never once has Pratt tugged at Caleb’s sleeve like that. Not once did his hands wander when they still sometimes slept together._ _

__In their apartment they got separate bedrooms. Caleb’s parents pay more of the rent than Pratt is paying back, adding to his loans. Caleb made them promise not to tell Pratt about the deception. Honestly, they’d pay the whole of the rent if Pratt and his mom let them. Pride wouldn’t let Pratt accept it, though._ _

__Caleb doesn’t want to think about how few weeks they have left together. He doesn’t want to think about saying goodbye. Pratt is moving back to Hope. Got a job there already. The Sheriff willing to hire him straight out of school. Caleb is happy that Pratt seems happy._ _

__There isn’t any excuse for Caleb to follow him home._ _

__Caleb’s parents moved out of the county years ago. And there’s no job waiting for him. And, God, there is the job, maybe the job, in DC, that he can’t tell Pratt about. It’s just an internship, really, for now. But this guy from the agency, Willis Huntley, called Caleb personally after seeing his application. Asked Caleb if he was so certain that analyst was the position he really wanted? To sit behind a desk and comb through dry as all heck reports. Pardon his French._ _

__Even now, Caleb isn’t even sure he wants to go. If the CIA is really right for him. Maybe he really can follow Pratt back into the wilderness. Always trotting behind him like the loyal dog he is. Doesn’t matter that he’s been rejected in a dozen different ways before. He could at least be by Pratt’s side through it all._ _

__In California, he sleeps with a woman so beautiful it’s hard to believe she’s real. Well, her golden hair probably comes from a bottle, maybe her tanned skin too. But she’s just Caleb’s age and so exceedingly lovely. Wet and pliant for him, spreading her legs and laughing confidently as Caleb presses his mouth against her sex._ _

__Back at school, Caleb tells Pratt about it. And how it didn’t feel real. Didn’t feel like his life._ _

__This doesn’t feel like his life either, that Pratt is sprawled out on top of him, head heavy against Caleb’s chest and eyes on the television. They’ve both got open beers that are liable to tip over somewhere. The floors are hardwood though so they don’t need to worry about the carpet._ _

__God, it almost feels like Pratt is his, with the way they make enough room in too-small a space, Pratt’s legs slotted in between Caleb’s as they watch highlights, the volume turned down low._ _

__Pratt’s mouth tenses, his expression serious, as he explains that he got laid too. And it’s been enough time, the heartbreak stitched well enough, that Caleb can express sincere excitement that Pratt had a good time over break, even if somewhere, deep inside of Caleb, it still aches. He puts one hand at the small of Pratt’s back, holding him in place like he might float away at any second._ _

__“Who was it?” Caleb forces any trace of jealousy out of his voice. He’s gotten good at that, over the last couple of years. Idly he wonders if his skill at lying is going to be an asset if he takes that CIA job. Maybe._ _

__“Just uh, some guy I’ve never seen before. Passing through I guess,” Pratt looks away again, like he’s still ashamed about liking men. Like Caleb hasn’t done enough yet to let him know unequivocally that it’s okay. It can’t help but sting a little._ _

__Caleb redoubles his efforts at trying to show Pratt how very, very okay it really is. “Dude, you hooked up with a guy, in Hope County? That’s amazing!” His smile is so wide that the corners of his mouth start to hurt. Pratt doesn’t say anything though, letting Caleb’s encouragement hang thickly, uncomfortably in the air. “Wow, fucking wow.”_ _

__—_ _

__Caleb sneezes as dust gets caught in his nostrils. Pratt calls him weak._ _

__They’re curled up together on the floor of their empty apartment. Tomorrow, they’ll go their separate ways. Pratt will go back to Hope County with his mom. Caleb to Minot for a couple of weeks, then on to DC._ _

__Their mattresses are already loaded up, Pratt’s in a rented van and Caleb’s in a shipping pod. All his stuff will probably go directly into storage once it makes it to Minot. Maybe he should have been more aggressive in trying to pawn off his things on underclassmen. He’ll probably never see this shit again._ _

__The sheets are thin and the floor is hard. On top of that, it’s too warm, May’s mild weather seeping in through the open windows. It doesn’t matter though, because Caleb isn’t going to let this moment slip through his fingers. He’s not going to let the spring heat keep him from wrapping Pratt up in his arms, from sticking his nose in his best friend’s hair and breathing deep, like some sort of obsession. Pratt might not love him. And Caleb might not yet be okay with that. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let their friendship suffer on that account._ _

__Caleb makes a promise that he already knows he’ll have to break. He hasn’t told Pratt yet about the job. Doesn’t know how to explain that there’s some chance that he’ll...more or less disappear. God, he’s not even sure about it now. Huntley has been pushing him real hard to consider the field agent position. Caleb is still unsure. It would mean giving up...so much. So much of who he is and what he wants._ _

__At least tonight he can hold Pratt close, tell him lies that Caleb wishes were truths. Not tell him the truth that has been eating at him for years. Never the right time. Caleb never found the right time and he knows that makes Pratt so much braver than he is._ _

__He says he’ll come visit Pratt sometime in the summer. Pratt says that he’s always welcome. Caleb hopes, at least, that the “always” part rings true._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Caleb doesn’t know what to say. 

His thumb rests over the call button on his phone screen, a smiling, bright photograph of 20-year-old Pratt as his contact image. They’re 25 now. The collar of Pratt’s green and black flannel is slightly askew in the picture, open enough at the collar that the starch white of his undershirt is visible. There’s a black elastic headband in his hair, keeping it up and off his face. 

Caleb has been through six personal cell phones since college, but he can’t let go of this photograph. 

It’s safe to say that Caleb isn’t in love anymore. Not like he was at 15 or 18 or 22. Distance can do that, apparently. It’s not exactly that “time heals all wounds” or anything. Or even that Caleb has replaced his love for his best friend with something, or someone, else. The nature of his job makes it near-impossible to hold on to relationships for any length of time. There just isn’t the option to be honest with another human being. He’s not allowed to explain who he is or where he disappears to, sometimes for months at a time and with little warning. He’s not permitted to be vulnerable.

Sure, Caleb has managed to get laid, and stuff. He’s not a monk. And sometimes his sex life and his job overlap in a morally nebulous and confusing sort of way. 

It’s been four years since he’s seen his best friend. They haven’t communicated other than a handful of texts in all that time. Caleb still feels like shit for missing Nick Rye’s wedding, even though he RSVPed for it. Honestly, hand on heart, he thought he would be able to make it. Then some shit that needed his attention went down in Estonia and...well….

But despite everything, Caleb would, absolutely, immediately, unequivocally still identify Staci Pratt as his best friend in the whole wide world. Even if Pratt doesn’t know at all what Caleb’s world has looked like since graduation. 

Really though after everything that has happened...Caleb doesn’t even really consider himself to be bisexual anymore. He’s now firmly in the camp that his questioning phase about Pratt was really about just that, Pratt. Maybe what he felt those years ago wasn’t even romantic love at all. Because he’s never been able to feel anything remotely like it again. So maybe his feelings were exactly what Pratt always knew they were. An intense friendship laced with an unusual amount of physical affection, and nothing more.

Unlike when they were in college, Caleb has actually kissed other men now. Done more than that. Some of it occupational and some of it recreational and none of it felt at all like he was expecting. None of it felt like his world was about to come crashing down in the most spectacular of ways. Earth shattering and bone crushing. So, he’s not gay. Men felt about the same as kissing women, fucking them. So at some point Caleb just came to accept he was one of those people who questioned his sexuality and came out the other end like, yep, I’m straight. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

But now, after four years, he’s going back to Hope. He’s going back to Pratt. And he’s not sure what’s going to happen.

Well, a lot of shit is probably about to happen. Going home like this isn’t his choice, after all. Except it sort of is his choice because both he and WIllis are likely to get strung up on treason charges if they fail at their self-appointed quest. In a world of clandestine operations, carrying out a mission on domestic soil needs to be super duper major secret. Or else they’ll hang for this. They’ll be called traitors to their country. And for men like Caleb and Willis, who love their country and all the people in it, there can be no worse death.

guess who’s coming to hope??? Caleb punches into his phone.

Texting feels easier. Keeps Pratt from hearing the emotion in his voice. The hesitancy, the mixed up hope. Because even though Caleb is showing up in his backwaters hometown for the first time in years, it’s not going to be the kind of reunion he dreamed of. 

He’s going to hunt men. 

Those men who are too charismatic, too powerful, too clever, to be taken down any other way. Skirting what little law exists in the county, preying on fears that have been long-seeded in the mountains. Men and women in places like Hope County already don’t trust the government, they already think civilization is collapsing all around them, they’re already prepared to turn themselves over to faith and God and their own ingenuity. And now, Caleb has been tasked with dragging them all back from the brink.

He has to eliminate Joseph Seed. Jacob Seed. John Seed. He has to figure out how to do that. How to make things right. Before it’s too late.

He’s seen photographs of all three men, though they’re dated now. Transplants from Rome, Georgia, where Joseph, the middle brother, had some sort of self-proclaimed revelation from God. Started a church that quickly tumbled into a cult. Probably killed a man in cold blood, and ran for the hills. Kept on running until he and his followers landed in Hope County. That was years ago now, right after Caleb graduated college. 

Jacob Seed, the eldest brother, is a towering hulk of a man. Nearly as tall as Caleb but with the shoulders and chest to match. Not like Caleb who has, on occasion, been compared to one of those inflatable wacky tube men. Point is, Jacob is a big guy. And probably the only one of the three Seeds he’d have to worry about taking down one-on-one. Even then, Caleb is pretty sure that he’s got it covered. He’s twenty-something years younger than the guy and has had the finest hand-to-hand training the agency can provide. Jacob is just a washed up, middle aged dude who thinks he’s still playing soldier. Caleb knows the type.

As far as Caleb can tell from the pictures, Joseph Seed doesn’t have an ounce of muscle or fat on him. All lanky bones and self-deprivation. Probably decent with a rifle, and better with his words, but nothing to write home about. Anyway, the guy has sandy brown, receding, hair, tied back in a bun in every photo. Also apparently, allergic to wearing shirts.

The youngest Seed, John, used to go by a different name. John Duncan, made a name for himself in Atlanta as a brilliant defense attorney, skyrocketed to success at a suspiciously young age. With his dark hair and smaller stature, at first glance he doesn’t quite look like he fits in with his brothers, though when the photos are side by side, there’s no denying the resemblance between the three. He’s just much more...refined looking? With the way he’s dressed in too many layers, button down, vest, coat, flashy rings visible on his fingers and an expensive watch still on his wrist. It all seems terribly fussy. He probably stands out in Hope County too. 

Caleb knows that over the last several years, John has been the most publicly visible of the brothers, acting as a front for the real estate transactions and soothing things over with the locals when someone in the cult steps out of line. The photos of him are a little more recent compared with his brothers’. Caleb wonders if Pratt knows the man, if they’ve spoken to one another? More? Caleb doesn’t want to think about the “more.” Because the other thing that he knows about John _Duncan_ of Atlanta was that he was an unrepentant whore. Caleb doesn’t think that Pratt would be interested in that sort of man. But, then again, Caleb kept on wishing that Pratt would be interested in men like him. And that didn’t exactly work out.

didn’t want to tell you until everything with whitehorse was finalized

It was blissfully easy for Caleb to get the job at the Sheriff’s office. He’s not certain what he and Willis would have done if Whitehorse refused him. Whitehorse doesn’t know what Caleb has been up to all these years either. Well, he has a fake resume with a handful of nondescript office jobs that show he’s at least been a moderately productive member of society. 

He also faxed a physical from his doctor, his real physical, that shows he’s in excellent health and even better physical shape. He better be after the kind of hell WIllis puts him through to stay in form. Caleb loves the man like a second father, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion that Willis compensates for his own beer gut and lack of natural athletic ability by pushing off his desire for physical perfection onto Caleb. Sometimes it’s just exhausting. 

With one last breath, Caleb texts what he wanted to ask all along, even though Pratt hasn’t responded to any of his previous messages. He’s probably at work and can’t answer. Maybe driving around the county on patrol. Caleb hopes that Pratt is alone, maybe. And that when he sees the texts from Caleb, maybe he’ll smile in response. Maybe he’ll be as happy as Caleb is, but without any of the other complications.

so hows your couch look?

—

Caleb has seen a lot of airports in his life.

Even back when he was younger, his parents’ jobs took them all over the country, North Dakota to Alaska to Montana and Texas and Oklahoma and back again. Then there were the international destinations: Caribbean islands and Dubai and China and rural Russia. The likes of which tourists never see. 

It’s not like Caleb always went with them. And more often than not, one of his parents would stay home while the other traveled, in case something happened to the plane. But at least once a year the three of them all went together. And while Caleb would spend two-thirds of the trip experiencing everything the hotel had to offer on his own, his parents would always tack on a few days to see the sights with him.

Since college, Caleb can maybe string together twelve days at a time over the last four years that he’s been able to actually spend in his apartment in New York. When in DC, he sleeps in Willis’ guest room, whether the elder agent is there or not. Otherwise, he’s been on assignment, or shipped off somewhere to prepare for an assignment. Intensive immersive training in languages he ends up never needing, running support operations for other field agents leading a mission, putting his “Midwestern-Scandinavian charm” to work without any pretense of blending in. 

Point is, Caleb has seen a lot of airports. The Missoula Regional among them, since for most of his childhood trips started here.

So he knows the men’s room is tiny, just two stalls and a urinal, barely enough room to turn around in front of the sink. Still, he splashes cold water on his face, looking up into the mirror, appraising himself under harsh fluorescent lighting. His hair is a mess from the flight that took two connections and had a four hour layover in Denver. Eyes red-rimmed and made even worse by the crimson shade of his checkered flannel. He looks a mess.

He looks a mess and he’s about to see Pratt.

Oh, fuck it. Being handsome never helped him before. Besides, he’s over it.

Riding the escalator down to baggage claim, he runs his fingers through his hair one last time. There’s a shoddy plaster wall that separates the arriving passengers from their family and friends waiting to greet them, a half-ass security measure cobbled in after 9/11 that they’ve never managed to fix in a more aesthetically pleasing way. Just slap more paint on it.

But that wall means that Caleb doesn’t get a glimpse of Pratt until the last second. Pratt has his cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, his jacket a little too big around his shoulders. Caleb has always objectively known that Pratt isn’t small. He’s nearly six feet tall and with a build that, while slim, doesn’t look exaggerated with his height. But to Caleb, he’s always been someone to protect, in an abstract sort of way. 

And it’s that same impulse, maybe, that drives Caleb to leap over the dividing rail and bundle Pratt up in his arms, squeezing tight and lifting his friend up off the ground as he drives his face into Pratt’s warm shoulder.

There’s something about the smell of Pratt, the weight of him in Caleb’s arms, that set that terrible, fluttering feeling in Caleb’s chest alight again. Even if it’s only friendship, Caleb with love Pratt fiercely. Today, tomorrow, and at all points forward. They should be together, even if it’s only like this.

Pratt’s laughing in Caleb’s arms, quiet, and sort of nervous, even if the people around them don’t know who they are. Placing Pratt back down on his feet, Caleb gives him the biggest smile that he can manage, utterly sincere. Though his mission here is macabre, even if he can’t tell Pratt everything, Caleb is happy. Right now he’s so fucking happy to be home.

“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have been gone so long,” Caleb apologizes. He wishes he could tell Pratt why visiting wasn’t possible. His fingers act on their own accord, starting to push Pratt’s dark curls back behind his ears. Caleb wants nothing more than to keep playing with his hair. Instead, he grabs Pratt’s free hand, the one without a phone in it, and holds on tight. “I should have come to visit you…” Caleb continues; Pratt still hasn’t breathed a word and Caleb, selfishly, can’t be content with silence.

Pratt looks like he might cry and Caleb’s heart sinks into his gut. He’s messed this up so badly. It might be that he’s here on a mission, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try and repair the damage that he’s done.

He holds Pratt’s hand all the way to baggage claim, squeezing tight, trying to put everything he’s experienced all these years out through his fingertips, hoping that Pratt can at least feel some trace of him.

It’s not often that Caleb thinks about the men he’s killed. The number isn’t many. But that doesn’t matter much. He’s a killer, and Pratt’s not. Maybe, one day, Pratt will know this about Caleb. He’ll know how Caleb watched as each of those men died, the life draining out of their eyes in front of him. One day, Pratt might know that Caleb didn’t feel anything much as he watched their breath extinguish. Now, though, watching strangers’ bags go around the carousel, Caleb feels awful that Pratt might think differently about him if he knew how cold and heartless he really is.

Pratt doesn’t say anything at all until he asks if the rest of Caleb’s things are coming later? Caleb lies and says he sold all his furniture. There’s nothing else coming. Well, it is true that they shouldn’t expect more of Caleb’s things. His salary from the agency will obviously continue to cover his actual apartment in New York. Whatever he makes from the deputy job he’ll give to Pratt as rent or, he doesn’t know...buy Pratt nice things when he least expects them? It’s the smallest thing Caleb can do, given the situation. 

—

Just before they get into the car, Pratt’s expression goes quite serious, telling Caleb to get in, there’s something he has to tell him. The car is the same Civic that Pratt has been driving since college. Even when Pratt got the car it was already five-years-used. Trying to buy Pratt a new car is never going to go over well, though Caleb kind of likes the idea.

Caleb gets into the passenger seat like Pratt asks, his knobby knees bumping into the glove compartment, making it rattle. He grabs the bar under the seat to push it as far back as it’ll go. Even though they both know it’s not enough for Caleb’s legs. 

Pratt said they needed to talk. Or, well, that Pratt needed to tell Caleb something. Though his lips are still drawn tight in silence as they head out on the highway to Hope. Caleb doesn’t press, even though his heart is still hammering in his chest.

It’s nearly a relief when Pratt finally starts talking again, “Okay, so. First of all. There isn’t...there’s no one I’m seeing right now. So don’t worry about my privacy or whatever. Besides you’re the one who’s gonna be stuck out in the living room.” He breathes in deeply, “Do you want the general rumor first or the Joey Hudson special?”

Caleb laughs, nervous energy expelling itself through his nose and mouth. Pratt isn’t seeing anyone. Okay, that’s fine. That doesn’t mean anything at all. Caleb has to focus on his mission here, not dive headfirst back into his fruitless teenage fantasies, “Start with the general and move towards the specific,” he prompts.

Pratt’s hands squeeze tight around the steering wheel. “Rumor around the county the last couple years is I’m queer.”

It takes a moment for Caleb to process that. He’d figured, well, it was wrong to assume. He thought maybe by now Pratt would actually be out. Small town mentality, though. Pratt would know better than him if it would be comfortable or safe to be more open with his sexuality. “But you are.”

Pratt shrugs, eyes still glued to the road ahead. The sun is starting to set and the highway out here gets near pitch black at night. “I’m still not out...Just, if you’re living with me, people might say stuff about you too.”

Caleb finds himself right back at square one. He’s never managed to convince Pratt that he doesn’t care. Well, at a point, he did care, deeply. There’s nothing in it for Caleb now that Pratt is bisexual, other than the fact he wants his friend to feel supported and cared for and loved. He wants Pratt to feel comfortable with himself.

Snickering, Caleb responds, “I’m hurt that you would even think I’d care about that.” It actually does sting. “Besides,” he grins wide, “I fucking wish I were that lucky. I mean, look at you.”

Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud. He said it a bunch of times in college, obviously. And it never managed to get Pratt to react in any sort of way that indicated interest. What’s one more attempt, for old time’s sake?

Pratt just rolls his eyes. At least he’s smiling now.

“If I get to pick a dude, it would definitely be you,” Caleb presses, happy enough that Pratt’s smile grows wider. No one doesn’t like a compliment. 

Pratt mumbles something under his breath that Caleb doesn’t catch. “Anyway, as for Joey. She thinks I’ve been in love with you, specifically, for the last four years. Secretly pining away over my straight, unobtainable best friend.”

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

At least there are a couple of things Caleb is good at. And one of those things is deflecting. Trying his absolute best not to let his true feelings show. Never would have made it very far as an agent if he couldn’t at least manage that. A bit like flipping a light switch on and off. Caleb always fancied himself an open book. But books are easily shut too.

“Aw Pratt,” Caleb teases. It feels strangely like an out-of-body experience. His lips are moving, his steady voice moving past his tongue and teeth. But Caleb doesn’t really feel like he’s here in Pratt’s car anymore. “You mean you haven’t? You’re not? There goes my plans for tonight to, you know, rip your bodice and expose your heaving pecs…” Too far, really. Too blindingly close to a truth he’s left behind. Of course Pratt hasn’t been pining for him. If Caleb was able to get over him, Pratt sure as hell had an easy go of it. Since there was never anything there at all.

Pratt says something else, but Caleb can’t catch it. He bites his tongue before he makes the mistake of pushing Pratt to repeat himself.

Try as he might, though, the gears start clicking in Caleb’s head, drawing connections where other people wouldn’t see them. Used to get him in trouble in college, where he’d turn in essays that were incomprehensible to anyone, including his professors. Going off on wild tangents that had little, if anything to do with the assignment, before circling back to some conclusion that almost made sense. His mind has always sort of been like that.

“So wait,” Caleb tracks what Pratt says, and what he doesn’t say “If she thinks that, and...you haven’t dated a girl since we left college,” Did Pratt actually say that? No. But it was implied. If he had been dating women, there would be no reason to hide it from Joey. And Joey would know, then, that Pratt wasn’t in love with Caleb.

“...I slept with a girl in Missoula.” Pratt supplies. And with that, he’s completely given himself away.

“You’re dating a man!” Caleb exclaims. It doesn’t matter if earlier Pratt said he wasn’t dating anyone. That was just a defense mechanism. Pratt has gotten used to lying about his relationship for so long, that the easy denial of there being anyone in his life came out like instinct. Throwing his hand up, Caleb smacks it against the car roof. He loves it when he’s right.

“I’m not, not anymore.” At least now they’re getting somewhere “We broke up, awhile ago. Please don’t tell Joey. She doesn’t know.” There’s genuine distress in Pratt’s voice. Caleb doesn’t want to think the worst of his friend. There are plenty of reasons a man in rural Montana wouldn’t want people knowing he was dating Pratt. Even if Pratt is the most beautiful man to come out of the county probably ever. Yeah, yeah, Caleb is over his crush for sure. But he still has eyes. He knows what Pratt looks like. “Don’t tell anyone. Remember, I’m not out. And I don’t want my mom finding out second hand….and...Joey is the only one who even knows I’m bi. But don’t tell her about an ex.”

Caleb leans back against the seat, still drumming his fingers against the top of his thigh. “Oh, man. Sorry, sorry you broke up. But that’s cool, you know. I always thought that was cool.” 

When Pratt’s ready to talk about it. Whoever this guy was, whatever he felt, Caleb will be here for him. He promises himself that much. No matter what’s about to happen with the cult and the Seeds and Caleb’s mission here, he’s going to be there for Pratt in all the ways he couldn’t be before.

**Author's Note:**

> If I can be motivated to continue this will literally skip 4 years ahead to Caleb taking the deputy position. I’m not fucking writing 4 years of Caleb doing unrelated CIA bullshit and not calling Pratt ever and checking his fake Facebook page.
> 
> Also, for real chance I just delete this tomorrow morning.


End file.
